


Propaganda

by quincette



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aristocracy, Canon Universe, Courtship, Crack Treated Seriously, Dance lesson, Erwin Plays Dirty, M/M, My Fair Lady-like at First Few Chapters, Politics, Slow Burn, Sparring, UST
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-25 10:32:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3807076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quincette/pseuds/quincette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They are not the Scouting Legion's most important supporters, Levi," Erwin says. "Their wives, mothers, and daughters are."<br/>Levi's eyes widen, comprehending.<br/>"You overgrown piece of shit," he hisses. "You're pimping me out!"<br/>Erwin acknowledges the accusation with a barely perceptible smirk.<br/>"Not you," he says. "Us."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ink, Oil, and Mud

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at Shingeki fandom. Eruri has taken over my life; plot bunnies shagging each other and breeding uncontrollably they need to be set free.  
> This was meant to be a quick crack fic, but then it grows into something else.  
> Be gentle. Or not.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Erwin plays dirty, literally.

“No.”

Erwin exhales carefully. He has expected this from Levi, the only tinge of regret he now is feeling is from the fact he has had the slightest hope that Levi might give him a different answer. He should know better that Levi would put up quite a battle.

“You can spare the time away from the base, Levi.”

It is at the height of scorching summer, a time where titans are the most ravenous that an expedition requires the whole Legion to be in its absolute best shape. And their last excursion outside of the Wall has brought down the number of their active soldiers significantly, and the fresh batch of trainees will not arrive for training until the next two months.

“I can,” the captain snaps. “But I won’t. Whatever the hell for?” Levi angles his body to glance at him, his hands busy tending to a neglected corner in Erwin’s office. Levi is antsy, and irritable, not that that is out of the ordinary. But Erwin could feel a particular restlessness about him, an itch for action, to wander outside the confines of their routine. Even when Levi himself is not aware of it.

“Securing our future,” Erwin says flatly, keeping his eyes on the papers on his desk, sensing Levi’s growing annoyance. He hears him snort.

“It was meant to be rhetorical, Erwin.” The commander could practically _hear_ his eyeroll. “Anyone with half a common sense knows I’m the least helpful person you can bring to charm the funding off of those fat, pampered, aristocratic asses in Sina.”

“It’s different this time,” Erwin finally looks up, his knuckles resting on his chin.

"How so?” Levi looks at him, suspicious, one hand on his cocked waist. Were the circumstances any different, he would have looked comical, as his other hand is holding a feather duster, and he is in his full cleaning regalia of apron and bandana.

“I can’t tell you, yet,” Erwin tilts his head. "You will see once you're there."

“Not interested,” Levi scowls. “I cannot think a scenario where you would need me to assassinate any of these fat lords. So, no.” He turns back to resume his cleaning.

“This is not a request, Levi.”

He turns again to face Erwin at the tone of his voice. But then he sees the corner of the commander’s mouth subtly lifted into what untrained eyes might mistake as a smile.

“That’s an order – ” Erwin meets his eyes, “  –Captain.”  

Levi saunters to his desk before Erwin can revert back to his papers. He puts his hands on the edge of the desk, “So throw me in detention, _Commander_ ,” he hisses. “Hell, court-martial me for refusing to attend stupid perfumed balls and be your show pony.”

Erwin raises an eyebrow. “A show pony, Levi? Really? I’m hurt that you reduce yourself, Humanity’s Strongest, our most skilled titan slayer, as a mere that.” He stares at him, his clear blue eyes betray nothing.

“I knew it!” Levi throws his hands up in the air. “I’m not going to be in your travelling freak show. Take Mike, and you can be Tall, Fabulous Blond Military Duo, or something. Or Petra, if you need someone small, pretty and definitely inoffensive. Or Hange, even, for a freak show proper.”

Erwin’s eyes very briefly look amused, but he says nothing.

It annoys Levi. “And this Humanity’s Strongest,–” he makes a quoting gesture to emphasize the sarcasm, “– needs daily maintenance so excuse your-" more air quotes, "-most skilled titan slayer, if he would rather stick to his daily training than get fat and fawned in the capital, thank you very much.”

Something shifts in Erwin’s expression. He still looks amused but there’s a certain mischievous glint to his eyes, and Levi doesn't like that one bit.

“Daily training, hm?” Erwin asks. “Are you saying you can’t keep your training away from the base?” Levi isn't sure if it’s rhetorical, so he keeps mum.

“That’s nonsense and we both know it. You learned to maneuver with 3DMG off formal training base after all …” he trails off, eyes on the window overlooking the training ground. Levi thinks he has lost this thought when Erwin leans back on his chair and laces his fingers together, a gesture that, Levi has noted, he makes when he’s up to no good. “Would you say I’d get fat and slow too, if I go to the capital for this, as you put it, travelling freak show?”

A pause.

But before Levi can retort, the commander continues. “Tell you what, since I just came back from Maria and have missed a week’s training …”

Levi tenses.

“… Why don’t we put your theory to a test?”

Levi raises his eyebrows, questioning.

“Let’s spar,” Erwin says, almost cheerfully. “If I win you’d agree to come with me to Mithras and few other locations we’ve been invited to, and to go along with related trainings to anticipate this excursion –,”

“That will not happen.”

“Then you will have nothing to lose.”

“And what will I get _when_ I win?”

“Satisfaction.”

“Nice try, Old Man.” Levi is so incredulous he almost laughs. “Not enough incentive.”

“Oh, maybe I won’t make a significant dent in the cleaning budget like I plan to.”

“I thought we’re past blackmail.”

“With you? Never. It’s effective,” Erwin has got up and circled his desk, leaning on it next to Levi.

Levi glares openly, arms folded, deciding that stalemate is the best option he has against Erwin’s brewing plot.  

“Very well,” Erwin says, rolling his sleeves, “how about you indulge me with a spar, and at the very least, I promise I will never –“ Levi catches Erwin’s hands move from the corner of his vision, but before he can register what the commander is doing, he sees a cluster of black specks appear in what a second previous was the perfectly clean hardwood floor.

“ – do this again –”

The black specks spread. Levi whips his head in horror to see Erwin, an open bottle of ink in one hand, and a his quill on another, which he proceeded to dip into the ink.

“ – or this –“ Levi thinks the blond bastard could not possibly look any more smug as he sees him pull the quill, fat droplets of black ink hanging on its tip, and casually flick it.

Another cluster of black stains appears on the hardwood. And Levi is vaguely aware that he's made a high, keening noise with this throat before grabbing his apron and throws himself on the floor to stop the damage from spreading.   

Then a he feels something, something _wet,_ on his cheek. He looks up and sees Erwin’s blue eyes glint wickedly.

“Or this.” Erwin says.

Levi realizes, belatedly, that, it was Erwin’s thumb dragging along his cheek. And that that thumb has been dipped in ink.

 

***

 

Moblit is several paces away from Erwin’s office when he hears something crash inside. His first instinct of hearing crashing sounds, thanks to Hange, is to run towards it to assess the damage and help mitigating whatever it is that has gone horribly wrong. But then he hears Levi’s voice. Cursing, threatening, his usual tirade. And the sounds of struggle continue.

He sighs, debating whether to step inside whatever argument the commander is having with the captain. Then the door swings open, and out a pissed-off Levi; grey eyes blazing, hair’s a mess, a black smudge on the left side of his cheek.

He sees Moblit, but doesn't seem to register him. He makes several brisk steps before stopping and turning back abruptly.

“I’LL FUCKING CHOKE YOU WITH THAT GODDAMN BOLO TIE, YOU FUCKING BLACKMAILING SHITSTAIN!” he yells, one fist out, holding a balled up stained apron that would comical if people doesn't know he has always made good of his threats of violence.

Then he's gone, turning into a corner, his stomping boots an echo in the corridor.

“Er, Commander Smith, Sir…?” Moblit cautiously peers inside Erwin’s office.

Erwin is holding a bottle of ink and a quill, curiously standing instead of scribbling on his desk. But otherwise, not a hair out of place. “Come in, Berner,” he says without looking.

Moblit does, and is curious. He steals glances, assessing the damages indicated by the sound he just heard. And there on the floor, he could see telltales of their argument; smudges of ink on the surface of the coffee table, and the cabinets, and on Erwin’s trousers, and on Erwin’s right thumb.  

“Yes?” he felt Erwin’s eyes on him.

“The expense report you asked, Sir,” Moblit hands him the paper.

Erwin accepts it, and goes back to his desk, ink and quill back on the surface of the desk. “Thank you. You may go, unless you need anything else.”

“Y-yes, Sir,” he replies, and goes to the door.

“Ah, Berner,” Erwin says.

Moblit turns around.

“I’ll spar Captain Levi on the training ground in half an hour,” he says, his eyes on the reports. “Meet me there ten minutes before…” he pauses, then meets Moblit’s slightly confused gaze. “Anyone with nothing better to do may watch,” he goes back to his paper. “That’s all.”

“Sir,” Moblit says by way of acknowledgement. He turns just a second too late to see Erwin’s lips curled up in amusement.

As the door click shut, Erwin lets out a sigh, then a chuckle. That still went according to plan. He enjoys this too much. And he couldn’t decide if it’s good or not.

Probably not.

 

***

 

Of course the fucking bastard would tell everyone. Levi curses silenty at the crowd gathering on the training ground, but deciding that wouldn’t change the outcome of their little argument. He’ll win this. See how Erwin likes public humiliation.

Wearing a uniform sans cravat and gear straps, Levi crosses the threshold of the training ground. It is a late afternoon after a drizzly morning, the sun has mellowed and the cloud and the wind made the air more pleasant.  Levi rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and takes a deep breath, calming himself, pushing his irritation aside. It’ll be over soon, he promises. Erwin would come, and Levi would knock him on his back and that’s that. Think about Erwin as an Titan – a miniature Abberant with a perpetual smug smirk and an exceptionally developed brain. Considering their size difference, he might as well have been one.

“Levi.”

He turns at Erwin’s voice. Then his eyes find him and his breath hitches.

Somewhere in the background Mike whistles.

Erwin approaches the training ground, trailed by Moblit. And Erwin wears nothing. Well, almost. He wears the uniform’s standard-issue pair of white trousers, rolled up to his knees. And that’s it, not even a pair of boots.

And he has the gall to smile at Levi. “No bolo tie, just in case,” he says.

Levi unfortunately cannot think of a come back, concentrating every ounce of his will not to let his eyes linger on the commander’s well-sculpted everything. As he does this, however, a stray thought about how Erwin’s skin would feel against his own slips through. Mercifully it is cut short by the sound of Erwin clearing his throat.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” he begins.

Good God, he’s fucking addressing the crowd, Levi thinks. How did the argument in his office turned into this public spectacle? Precisely, why? Erwin is not one for spectacles, he is all about plotting.

“It’s a pleasant afternoon. I would say it’s _too_ pleasant even, seeing so many of you here don’t have anything better to do!” he says light-heartedly, to which the crowd – about thirty-odds of them- replies with a smattering of laughter. “I may have to have a talk about that with your commanding officers later but for now, Captain Levi and I will spar.”

He turns and gestures at Levi, who does his best to be his usual impassive self.

“The Captain and I had this little argument and decided to make a wager out if it. Whoever knocks the other to the ground three times first, wins. Should Captain Levi win this, I will assign some of you – as clearly you have the extra time in your hands – to be his personal cleaning squad, to be tasked as he sees fit –“

There are collective gasps from the crowd, likely from horror. Levi suspects they were from the junior scouts who know fuck-all about cleaning. Levi leans on a training post, folding his arms, suspicious but not exactly unhappy. They didn't talk about this barter, or the rule of the three before he stormed out Erwin's office but it’s not like he hasn't felled beasts much larger than Erwin, plus he doesn't mind having extra pairs of hands to command, however sub-par their cleanliness is.

“Now should I win, and I assure you I plan to, I’ll be taking the Captain out of your hair for three weeks, at least–”

Levi makes a mental note to remember those who can’t contain their glee in the prospect of not having him breathing down their necks for those next three weeks.

“Now, Levi,” he beckons, and Levi brushes aside part of his thoughts that notices how the sun make Erwin’s skin glisten and his hair a golden sheen.

They take their stances, an apprehensive Moblit in the middle.   

At Moblit’s signal, Levi crouches low, and launches a round of kicks aimed at Erwin’s legs. The commander manages to block them, and with a fluid motion he locks the ankle of Levi’s boot with his hands.

Perfect. Levi leverages his weight on his hands and kicks Erwin with his free leg. It would have connected with Erwin’s torso but for something. It hasn't registered on Levi yet, maybe Erwin changes his stance at the last second, but his kicks just glide on Erwin skin, and don't make an impact he's been expecting.

He quickly recovers, and twists his ankle free from Erwin’s grip, and falls back several steps. Agility and distance are his friends when dealing with a long-limbed, much-larger opponent than him like Erwin. But the commander knows this and doesn’t let him catch his breath before he retaliates.

Erwin’s jabs are fast and so powerful they are best evaded than blocked. Levi needs to put a distance between them, fast, before one of the blows lands on him. And there, as he ducks, he finds an opening and brings up his elbow to connect with Erwin. And then it happens again, the blow doesn't land quite as hard as it should. And Levi’s skin informs him why.

Oil.

There’s a reason after all, for the sheen on Erwin’s skin.

Then Erwin has Levi's arms locked and twisted.

“You dirty bastard!” Levi hisses between the efforts to break free from his hold.

He hears Erwin chuckle. Then the ground goes from beneath him as Erwin kicks his legs. He barely registers Moblit announcing Erwin’s first score, all sense burning with indignation.

They take their position again.

“Oil, Erwin?” he says through gritted teeth.

“My old bones need it.” Erwin shrugs, the ever infuriating smirk on his lips.

Then Levi rains blows and kicks so fast Erwin is forced to take few steps back to block them. Levi counts, striking strategically to get Erwin in the right position. And at that precise moment one of Erwin’s leg is bent forward in the right position. He uses it as a spring board, stepping on Erwin’s thigh, and throwing his weight to slam Erwin squarely in the chest with both of his knees.  

He has Erwin sprawled in the ground, wheezing. But his smirk is intact.

Sitting on top of him, Levi puts his index finger on Erwin’s chest and whispers, punctuating every words with a jab. “Dont think oil will save you pain, asshole. I will. Beat the shit. Out of you.” He gets up as Moblit announces their scores.  

As the round progresses it becomes clear that the oil has made Erwin a really, really slippery opponent. And it starts to rub on Levi as well, literally, thanks to their skin on skin contact. Levi starts to feel really really disgusted with all of this. He needs to settle the score, fast, and take a shower. The only part of Erwin where full-blown contact would land is the clothed part of him.

Well, he could strike that most vulnerable part of any male human being out there, he supposes - a vulnerable part a normal-size titans lack. Not at all an honorable fighting move. But Erwin has been the one who has smeared honor with ink and oil and threw it out of the window. Levi has no qualms.

So he does it.

And the crowd, the ones that are close enough to see it happened, gasp and wince. Erwin lets out a barely audible grunt, but otherwise unmoved. But the pain is evident in the eyes and the knit of his eyebrows. And by how he’s not making any moves to block Levi’s two subsequent kicks. Then Erwin’s down.

Levi looks at Moblit when few seconds pass without him announcing the score. “Well? Blond Oaf here is not exactly free of dirty tricks either, is he? You would know. Announce the score, Deputy Squad Leader Oily Hands.”

And so Moblit announced. 2-1 for Captain Levi. it's almost over.

"Need more time, Old Man?” Levi crouches near Erwin.

The commander picks himself up, groaning, his expression an equal mix of pained and astonished. But strangely to Levi, he isn’t looked unamused.

“That was unexpected of you,” he sucks a big gulp of air and huffs, blond hair falling on his sweaty forehead. Levi secretly takes pleasure in seeing the habitually immaculate commander in such a disheveled state.  

“You started it,” Levi accuses.

“I was banking on how you hate dirty… stuff.” Erwin takes his stance.

“I grew up on the underground, you oaf. Think a man’s sweaty balls the worst thing I’ve touched?” Levi wipes his right hand on his shirt.

“Fair enough,” Erwin lowers his center of gravity, both hands out. “See how dirty you can play.”

"Tch," Levi clicks his tongue in challenge, and takes his position.

He means to end this quickly, his body thrums with anticipation. At Moblit’s signal, he pounces at Erwin, forcing the commander to take few steps back, giving his enough room to gather speed. He circles Erwin, and leaps, using the momentum to climb him, just like he climbs titan. But this time he means to choke with his thighs.

He almost, almost manages to wrap his thighs around Erwin’s neck when the commander tilts his head up, and looks at him and grins. He knows he’s lost the point before it happens. Erwin grasps Levi’s legs with iron grips and bends backwards, letting his upper body falls away, and Levi with it. The crowd gasps.

The impact knocks his breath out, Erwin easily extracts himself from the choke of his legs, and springs upright once again.

The crowd answers Moblit’s announcement of their scores with cheers. And Levi realizes the ground he’s lying upon is wet and muddy from the rain that morning.

Fucking hell, he misses his 3DMG.

Levi stays low on the next round, quick but cautious, and prefers to launches swift combos of kicks and punches then retreat to a safe distance in an effort to tire or coax Erwin to show an opening, whichever comes first.

But the commander seems to be content just by blocking his moves, and steers them to the muddier area of the training ground.

“Mud, too?” Levi says between jabs.  

“Why not?” Erwin says between blocks.   

Then Levi ducks a second too slow and Erwin’s fist boxes the side of his head. He rolls with Erwin’s next punch, somewhat registering that they are slowly coating themselves in mud. He realized too late that the muddy ground has made it difficult to maintain the safe distance between him and Erwin. And that the commander is now on the offensive.

He refuses to panic when Erwin manages to sling an arm around his neck. He elbows him hard, but Erwin catches his arm and twists it.

“Yield, Levi,” Erwin’s breath is hot on his ears.

Levi responds by lifting both this legs and bring them down hard on Erwin’s knees. Erwin grunts, but his chokehold on Levi does not budge. They are caked in mud, and between the choke, the sweat, the oil and Erwin’s breath and heartbeats, all Levi wants to do is get away and jumps into a body of fresh water somewhere.

Then everything goes dark.

 

 ***

 

When he comes to, he is lying on the mud.

Fuck.

Erwin is hovering above him with a bottle of water, smiling. The crowd has dispersed.

“Be in the third floor hall after dinner, eight sharp," he says, offering the water.

Needless to say, Erwin has won.

Fuck.

Instead of taking the water he grips Erwin’s wrist and wraps his arm with both of his legs and twists.

Erwin yelps and tumbles into the mud.

“Fuckin’ bastard,” Levi says, wrenching the water bottle from his hand and dousing himself with its content. “That was a whole lot of fuss and a new level of low, even for you.”

Erwin chuckles and sits up. “I had to do what I had to do, Levi," he says. He looks so pleased with himself, and so utterly unbothered by all the filth surrounding and coating their skins, Levi would have kicked him in the face if it weren't for the overwhelming urge to get away to clean up. He gets up, grimacing at the squelching sounds of the mud, and leaves without sparing Erwin a glance.

“Wear comfortable clothes,” he hears Erwin say. “Let’s see if you’re as good dancing on your feet as you are in the air.”

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh God,  
> action is super hard you guys...  
> the next chapter should be easier to write,  
> Kudos, comments, are lovely :)  
> and send me your suggestions and speculations!  
> tags will be updated as story progresses.  
> share your Eruri feels!


	2. Peace of the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they dance with and around each other.

Levi is over fifteen minutes late.

It is deliberate.

A long shower with extra round of scrubbing and a semi-decent meal did little to quash his resentment over everything that has happened that day.  Donning a lose cotton shirt – one of his only two good shirts, now that the one he wore to spar with Erwin has ripped in three places and thoroughly coated with mud it was unsalvageable – , a pair of black slacks and low cut boots, he somehow drags himself to the third floor hall.

Normally reserved for special occasions and gatherings that actually serve foods, the third floor hall is the closest the Scouting Legion has to a decent ballroom. At the very least the white-painted wall is clean, and the floor is real hardwood.

For all the fuss Levi has made about going with Erwin on his fundraising campaign, he cannot deny that the whole thing starts to intrigue him, what with all the fuss and charade Erwin has thrown today to corner him like this. The blond bastard better makes it worth his while.

The corridor leading to the hall is dark, but he could make out light seeping through the hall's slightly ajar door. Walking closer, his footsteps mingle with faint sounds of music, and laughter.

He pushes inside to blaring music. Intricate and pompous sounds, the so-called classic favoured by the moneyed people in their sun-drenched life. The kind of music he hates and grateful for in equal measure, the kind of music that used to masked his footsteps when he plundered gilded bedrooms while its occupants danced the night away downstairs. There are enough candles lit to bathe the space in a muted golden glow that is not entirely unpleasant, has Levi been in the mood to appreciate it.

The laughter is Hange’s, and Petra’s, whose hands are locked together, twirling about the space, their steps clacking in rhythmically. Levi’s eyes follow their movement to find Erwin at the far corner of the room, tending to the gramophone. He has his back to Levi and he wears civilian clothes Levi has never seen on him before; dark slacks, white shirt, and dark grey vest that accentuates the way his broad shoulder tapers down to his waist.  

“LEVI!” Hange’s shriek breaks his train of thought. “Levi, Levi, Levi!” she steers Petra to his direction, steps bouncing, her usual maniacal grin plastered wide. “Erwin! He’s here!” she shouts mid-twirl, and nearly collides with Levi, who takes a step back and crosses his arms.

Alerted to the captain's presence, Erwin glances his way briefly then back to the gramophone. Then the music stops.

Hange gently breaks away from Petra, whose petite face flushed from exercise. “Captain,” greets the redhead, smiling. Levi gives her a curt nod.

“You look like you’re having fun,” Levi says, to no one in particular.

“Well, we missed the fun today in the training ground!” Hange elbows him. “A spar! Wow! How was it? Mike said it was–“

“Dirty.”

“Interesting.” Erwin’s voice interjects.

The commander appears on his side. Levi openly glares at him, even if he silently takes in how well the blond fits his civilian get up.

"It was dirty. In more ways than one," he says with as much venom he can muster, eyes on Erwin's.

“Well,“ball-busting” was Mike's word for it! Like, literally,” the four-eyed cackles, ignoring the palpable tension between the two men. “Man, I wished I had been there! I'm so jealous of Moblit! He got all the fun!"

“Well, I thank both of you for being here now,” Erwin says, he has that look, the smirk he does with his eyes. “You are late, Levi.”

Levi shifts his weight to one leg, not bothering to give him an explanation.

“I’ve asked Hange and Petra to be here tonight, and we’re going to teach you to dance.”

“I can manage following a series of silly steps well enough on my own last time you dragged everyone to Shadis’s fancy send off, Erwin,” Levi bites.

“Oh-hoho!” Hange cuts, wagging her finger in front of Levi, demonstrating once again that she has no concept of personal space. “It’s not line dancing now, Levi! We’re going to waaaaaaltz!” she makes a sweeping gesture with her arms.

Levi bites the inside of his lower lips in disdain. “I guess it’s pointless to argue that this is a completely pointless exercise, isn’t?”

“You’ve guessed correctly,” Erwin can’t keep the smile from his voice. He rolls his sleeves to just above his elbows. “Petra, music please, if you would?”

Petra goes to tend the gramophone, and Levi realises that she, too, is wearing civilian attire, a tweed dress with flaring hem that falls just below her knees, the waist cinched by thin red sash, and a pair of low-heeled shoes. Hange is in her usual combo of white shirt and khaki slacks and would not look out of her ordinary if it weren't for the tiered ruffles of her sleeves and the leather suspenders with gold detailing on her shoulders. Dancing calls for dressing up, apparently.

 “Now, I will demonstrate once with Hange. And then you will follow with Petra,” Erwin says.

Levi watches him takes his position, feet together, left arm raised and out. Hange makes an excited whooping noise – she has a noise for everything – and places her right hand on Erwin’s left and rests her left near his right shoulder. Erwin closes their position by placing his right hand slightly beneath Hange’s left shoulder blade. He smiles and she grins and Petra lets the gramophone’s needle drop to scratch the music into the air.

The steps are simple enough to Levi’s eyes. Erwin leads and Hange follows, mirroring. They look like they thread a pattern, a box, once, twice, three times. Then informed by the swell of the music, Erwin takes Hange out of the box. They glide together.

“Have you ever waltzed before, Captain?” Petra whispers, taking her spot next to Levi.

“Never,” Levi says, eyes following the pair’s movements, which surprisingly fluid for someone, some-two, with such long limbs. That Erwin can dance with such grace doesn’t surprise him much. Hange, on the other hand…

“She’s so graceful, isn’t she?”

Levi hums an agreement. She is. And that fact is made even more jarring considering how the squad leader carries her usual maniacal self. God, they stink of upper-class breeding, the way they are now.

“It says something of the Commander’s ability to be able to bring that out of Hange, I suppose,” she says, sighing softly.

Levi agrees, silently. He supposes it’s not entirely unexpected of Erwin, what with his entire job being basically pulling strings on people, manipulating them. His posture unchanging yet the movements looks effortless to him. Between his paperwork, actual military training, tactical planning and leading people outside of the wall, not to mention fucking fundraising, Levi wonders how Erwin has managed to squeeze this kind of frivolity into his life.

Erwin looks straight into his eyes then, and gives him that half smile like he can read Levi’s thoughts. Levi scoffs. Erwin whispers something to Hange without breaking the eye contact. Hange snickers and says something back.

They break away and Hange turns, both facing the same way. Hange tilts her head, subtly, a signal, and Erwin puts a hand on her waist while his other hand hovers on her hip. She lifts a leg to meet the grip. Erwin lifts her and holds her flushed to his waist like she weighs nothing and they spin. Round and around, the ruffles on her sleeves blooming with their movement.

They stop in front of him and she slides down smoothly. Erwin smiles and bows while Hange gives them a mock curtsey. Petra claps. Levi exhales slowly, just realizing that the music was over.

“Now, there! Wasn’t so hard, was it?” Hange puts her arm around Levi. She feels warm with exertion.

“I don’t think I can lift you like that,” states Levi bluntly.

Erwin is looking at him, smiling. “I think you can lift Petra just as easily,” he says, to which Petra replies with a nervous giggle.

Levi suspects that there, under several layers of his intricate plot and pleasantries and the decision to make Petra as his practice partner, Erwin is poking fun at his height.

“Your turn, Levi,” Erwin says. He half expects Levi will try to evade the lesson somehow and is mildly surprised when the captain takes his position without kicking a fuss.    

 

***

 

It starts well enough for Levi, even if he doesn’t seem to have any interest beyond executing the basic ¾ steps somewhat mechanically. 

“One-two-three, one-two-three, oh, come on Levi, you can do better than that!” Hange protests. “It couldn’t be harder than Erwin making me look graceful and delicate,” she moves to correct Levi’s hold on Petra. “There should be a polite distance between your bodies, at least at first, but don’t make it look like she stinks, Levi! She smells wonderful!” she gestures frantically, the ruffles on her sleeves fluttering about.

Petra visibly blushes, prompting Levi to mumble, “You smell fine,” awkwardly and decides to give it more effort. They are doing fine with the steps and counting them, and Erwin if anything looks relieved. Until they try it with music. It looks as if the music does the opposite to Levi of what it does to Hange.

This music stifles him. It crowds his headspace, it makes his body slips into a kind of nervous alertness that is all wrong for dancing. It brings him back to his thieving nights, moonlit nights where he would slip or bribe his way out of the underground to relieve the minor aristocrats of some of their ill-gotten riches. He would rummage their many bedrooms, all the while alert to the music coming from their ballroom downstairs. The muffled music would tell him that they were merry and busy downstairs, that the chance of him being discovered was slim. But it is also a double-edge blade for it drowned the footsteps of any unfortunate maid or page were they have the misfortune to discover him. It was for the second scenario that he had carried a knife.

Petra’s gasp snaps him out of the reverie. He has treaded on her toes.

She gracefully waves it off even when her grimace betrays the pain. Levi mutters an apology to which she smiles sweetly. They continue the lesson for another round, but then the same thing happens to her other foot.

Erwin pinches the bridge of his nose while Hange frets about Petra. Levi mumbles another apology Petra was too distracted to reply. She sways a bit and grips Levi for support, eyes watering.

“I told you this was a bad idea!” Levi says to Erwin, voice raised over the god-forsaken music.

Erwin stops the music and approaches them, looking resigned.

“I believe that just concluded our lesson tonight,” he says. “Thank you Hange, Petra. I think Levi and I will stay behind for a bit.”

Hange not-so-gently elbows Levi and takes Petra’s arm and together they hobble their way out of the hall. Erwin walks them out of the door then closes it behind them. He leans on it, arms crossed, Levi cannot read his face.

Levi too, crosses his arms. “I just injured one of my best soldiers. Thanks to you.”

“I am not sorry, Levi,”

“What?”

“I am sorry it’s been rather unpleasant for Petra,” Erwin walks towards him. “But I am not sorry for putting you through all that filth today to get you here tonight,” his voice even. “Stop sulking.”

Levi snaps at his last two words. “Cut the crap, Erwin! So much trouble to drag me into your brown-nosing tour. There’s something important you didn’t tell me that I think would explain all this weirdness and why you are so desperate to drag me out to Mitras. How ‘bout you trust me with that and see if I, as you put it, stop sulking.”

And there it is, again, the ghost of smile on the blue of his eyes and the corner of his mouth.

“Do you trust me, Levi?”

Levi sucks his breath in. This is one of Erwin’s favorite questions that he asks almost frequently ever since that fateful day he decided to ride back behind him inside the wall, alone, without Farlan and Isabel. He would ask him this question on quiet nights filled with the scratch of quill on paper, on the throes of battle where his vision is partially blurred with blood and sweat, and every random times during the three years Levi's been in the legion, and every time Levi has the answer caught in his throat. A simple yes or no would suffice, and he suspects whichever he picks as an answer wouldn't matter much to Erwin anyway. Nevertheless he wavers between them, vacillating in the spectrum between those two answers and their possible implications.

“You haven’t earned my trust on this matter,” he settles.

He nods. “I understand. The truth is this very fundraising could make or break us.”

“That’s not news, Erwin.” Isn’t it always like that every season? Then somehow they would prevail.

“It is, now that I’ve taken Shadis’ place.”

Levi scoffs. “Shadis was broken. Hell, you’ve taken his role long before they gave you the official right to choke yourself with that stupid bolo tie anyway. They should be grateful they have you in his place.”

Erwin smiles at that, rather ruefully. “Unfortunately I have no one in my former place, strategically speaking.”

It takes Levi several second to digest what the commander is implying. “Don’t tell that all this crap today is another one of your twisted ideas of a promotion.”

“I thought you would be happier. This one comes without a title.”

“That’s not –,” Levi starts, then aborts. “I am only good at killing titans, Erwin.” That was his exact line to Erwin, six months prior, when his first order as the newly-minted commander was to elect him as the Scouting Legion’s captain, a rank which outranks all the squad leaders, against both Levi's initial reluctance and all the naysayers.

“And surviving. Don’t forget, it was why I want you as my captain. Your survival skills have rubbed off on everyone, and I’m glad for it.”

Levi’s getting frustrated. “I couldn’t possibly take your place as the ringmaster of your circus, Erwin, or whatever it is that you do to get those blue-fuckin-blooded pigs to part with their gold. I know jackshit about charm-speak.”

“I know,” there is a fondness in Erwin’s voice that irks Levi to no end, like he has thought about this, that he knows that this conversation would happen and has figured the way it could end in his favor. “I don’t expect you to play a part I played for Shadis in this, I’ve prepared a new role for you, which will suit our purpose best, I think.”

Of course he has. The chessmaster that he is.

“And I suppose dancing a fuckin waltz is a huge part of it.”

“It is a significant mean, a weapon even, if you must.” Erwin does not bat an eye. “If you cannot give it to me after all this time, Levi, then at least lend me your trust in this matter. It is a different kind of battle, but a battle nonetheless. And we need you to survive.” And thrive, he adds silently.

Silence holds for a few seconds, during which Levi searches Erwin’s face. The flickering candlelight plays strange shadows on his face, he looks assured and determined at one moment, hopeful and sincere the next, but for once Levi couldn’t find that subtle glint of manipulation in those blue eyes of his.

Shit.

He's walking straight into one of Erwin's game again, he knows it yet he does it anyway.

“Shit, Erwin,” Levi rakes his fingers on his black hair. “All that ink, and mud. And fucking oil! You could’ve just told me you bastard.”

Erwin’s smile reaches his eyes. “You look like you need to blow off some steam.”

“With a fucking fair fight I might!” Levi says exasperatedly.

“You did sock me hard down there, what if you’ve made me less of a man now?”

The corners of Levi’s mouth twitch. “Serves you right! I’d do that again for Petra’s toes.”

Erwin raises an eyebrow. “I’ll make sure it will not happen again.”

“Erwin, I don’t know why you need me to do that so bad. If some snooty upper-class slow dancing is a weapon, then that’s one I’ll end up killing myself with.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

Erwin rarely cusses. But when he does Levi pays attention.

This rare expletive is followed by another smile, however.

“I’m familiar with the way you move, Levi. Beyond your lack of experience, you have everything that you need to execute and play with the simple steps I just tried to teach you, and more. You can outbest the bluest bloods of Sina on their own dancefloor, if you want,” he says. “The problem is in your head. You were distracted. And I hope I have remedied that now that we’ve had this matter cleared.”

There is a brief pause before Erwin makes a move to the gramophone, taking Levi’s silence as an agreement.

“I hate the music,” Levi says to his back.

Erwin fiddles with the gramophone, lifting the black disc off the instrument. “Wein, Weib und Gesang? It’s a merry song,” he says, nonchalantly, inviting Levi to elaborate on his statement.

“It’s so fucking grand! It crowds your head, how are you supposed to clear your head with such fancy sounds.”

Erwin makes a low noise that indicates he’s listening. He places the disc inside a wooden crate near the table and rummages for another. He puts that one on the gramophone.

He approaches Levi with a new determination in his steps. Like he has everything figured out.

“Close your eyes.”

Levi huffs, and obeys more because of curiosity. “Had everything figured out, hadn’t you?” He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Erwin still has that smug smile on his face.

He tenses when he feels Erwin behind him and Erwin’s hands on both of his wrist, wrapping them and gently raising and spreading out his arms.

“You enjoy training with 3DMG,” Erwin says it like he knows it to be an absolute truth. “When you have no blades on your hands, you would start just like this. High on the branches.” His breath tickles Levi’s ear. “You would start at dawn, when there’s barely sunlight, when you have the forest all to you and your gear alone.” Levi can’t decide if he hates it that Erwin knows this about him.

“Tell me, Levi,” Erwin says. “What was on your mind then?”

“Nothing,” Levi answers, almost too quickly.

Erwin gives a low chuckle and Levi can feel the rumble of his voice. “I think it’s something. It’s peace.”

Levi swallows.

“I need you to go to that place, Levi.”

Levi sucks a deep breath, Erwin’s voice makes him think about the smell of evergreen, of fallen leaves, damp earth, and pine resin. Of the hums of the nocturnal insects, the chirp of the early birds and the trickling water of the distant river.

Erwin lets Levi’s wrists go and moves in front of him. “You would start easy, with a leisurely swing,” he says. “You would fire both of your grapplers and feel them embedded on the pine trunks somewhere in the distance.” He grasps Levi’s wrist again, this time a bit firmer. “And you would test them. Give them a pull. One –,” he gives a brief squeeze on his right wrist, “– by one –,” and his left wrist. “– it’s a mere formality, of course, as you always know, beyond a doubt, that you had anchored them securely.”

And Levi can feel Erwin’s imaginary cables thrum. Taut. Secured.

“And you can let go.”

Levi feels the loss of Erwin’s touch briefly, just like that split second moment he jumped off solid platform to tread the thin air.

“Open your eyes.”

The vision is subdued and bright at the same time. In the place of the early morning sky is the blue of Erwin’s eyes, tinted by golden candlelight. And in the place of the symphony of the forest is a gentle melody Levi has never heard before.

Erwin puts him into position smoothly, easily. Gentleness and assurance both present on his callused grips. He smiles, confident. “And we’re off.”

He leads. And Levi’s feet seem to have figured out how to follow his movements. His upper body sets into the position easily, his hands relaxed. They glide to the song. It starts slow, uncomplicated and unhurried. One note gives another a space to breathe.

It is easy until it quietly dawns on Levi that he has been staring straight into Erwin’s blue eyes. It must have shown on his face because Erwin’s smile grows.

“Good,” he says. And just like that Levi breaks their eye contact to stare the space just above Erwin’s shoulder.

“What song is this?” Levi blurts out, needing to say something just he doesn’t have to pay attention to how his blood is rushing to his face.  

“Peace of the Woods,” Erwin says as he brings them to a spin. “Appropriate, isn’t it?”

“Tch,” Levi clicks his tongue. “It’s not as bad as the others,” he concedes.

The music swells, and Erwin spins them accordingly. Or rather, Erwin _suggests_ , subtly, gently, with a slight angle of his body, the tap of his foot, the change of his breathing. And Levi catches every hints with his eyes, the way he reads the forest.

Erwin chuckles before he tightens his grip around Levi’s waist and puts his palm, callused fingers splayed wide, on his chest. And then Levi feels his body being lifted off the ground, all the way as high as the commander's arm can take him.

“Erwin!”

“Fly, Levi!” Erwin ignores the captain’s protest.

Levi’s breathing catches.

“Adjust your body. You know what to do,” Erwin says between intakes of air, not stopping.

And Levi does. Spreading his limbs to balance their movement, adjusting his breathing and his eyes to the spinning room bathed in gold. He looks down and sees Erwin, now openly grinning, golden hair tousled and blue eyes sparkling with that familiar mischievousness, and something else Levi doesn’t understand.

“Very good,” Erwin sounds breathless. “I’m going to let you down, but we’ll keep spinning.”

“I’ll fall, shithead!” Levi almost shouts.

“No you won’t, I got you.”

Erwin shifts his hold on Levi, always, always, gently. And Levi’s body adjusts, letting the momentum twist his body around Erwin’s arm, and down to intertwine with Erwin's body. The commander feels warm, firm and solid to his skin. Everything feels right, falls to places, not a limb tangles with another. Levi’s arms slide over Erwin’s shoulders briefly, bracketing his face, and their eyes meet, their gazes level with one another for a moment before both of Erwin’s hands find purchase on Levi’s waist, and land the captain smoothly on the ground.

The music slows and so does the speed at which they spin. Then it stops, and Levi lets out an abortive yelp when the feels Erwin’s supporting arm on his waist falters, only to realize that it has slid down, and he finds himself being dipped to the ground, his back arched quite a bit he almost could see the room upside down. Almost. Erwin looms over him. Tall and secure.

His breathing or heartbeat or maybe Erwin’s or maybe both of theirs are loud to his ears. Levi takes a couple of seconds and a big gulp of air to process everything before he reaches up for Erwin’s lapels and yanks them, scrambling to an upright position.

He should make a sarcastic remark. He should cuss. He has all the name to hurl at the blond bastard on the tip of his tongue, but he seems to run out of air in his lungs. Erwin beats him to it, breathlessly, in that precise tone of voice that is just too much.

“The things I could do with you, Levi.” 

And there it is on Erwin’s eyes. The wonder, the barely contained excitement not unlike the manic glints in Hange eyes every time she makes a new discovery about the titans. Levi is seized by a sudden bout of nervousness and he shoves Erwin off.

He doesn’t really remember what he mumbles to the commander as an excuse to end the lesson, or what else the commander says in return. He remembers staggering away from the candlelit space with fluttering heartbeat and a burning face and hearing Erwin thanking him and requesting him to be there again the next night. And that Levi would take the lead next time.

Of course he would. The other way around has just been proven too confusing.

 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only dance lesson I have experience is a two-hour Chacha class which I failed miserably at.  
> So any corrections and suggestion to improve the dance scene is very much appreciated T_T  
> I have a rough idea of where this fundraising tour go,  
> but send me suggestions and request! I can never have too much ideas.  
> Hope you enjoy that,  
> till next time!  
> And as always, comments, feedback and kudos are appreciated.  
> Thank you SOOOO MUCH for your appreciation so far, it feels so great to be a part of such an amazing fandom (and a truly beautiful ship that's practically canon *wink wink*)
> 
> Both  
> [Wein, Weib und Gesang](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=Tzsjvddbp6c)  
> and [Peace of the Woods](https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ftHcQrt5Cnk)  
> are actual songs By Johann Strauss and Edvard Grieg, respectively. They are lovely :)


End file.
